Chapter III: News of the Enemy

Terror and excitement reigned everywhere. The wildest rumours were hourly afloat. London was a seething stream of breathless multitudes of every class.

On Monday morning the newspapers throughout the kingdom had devoted greater part of their space to the extraordinary intelligence from Norfolk and Suffolk and Essex and other places.

That we were actually invaded was plain, but most of the newspapers happily preserved a calm, dignified tone, and made no attempt at sensationalism. The situation was far too serious.

Like the public, however, the Press had been taken entirely by surprise. The blow had been so sudden and so staggering that half the alarming reports were discredited.

In addition to the details of the enemy’s operations, as far as could as yet be ascertained, the _Morning Post_ on Monday contained an account of a mysterious occurrence at Chatham, which read as follows:--

“Chatham, _Sept. 1_ (11.30 p.m.).

“An extraordinary accident took place on the Medway about eight
o’clock this evening. The steamer _Pole Star_, 1200 tons register,
with a cargo of cement from Frindsbury, was leaving for Hamburg and
came into collision with the _Frauenlob_, of Bremen, a somewhat
larger boat, which was inward bound, in a narrow part of the
channel about half-way between Chatham and Sheerness. Various
accounts of the mishap are current, but whichever of the vessels
was responsible for the bad steering or neglect of the ordinary
rules of the road, it is certain that the _Frauenlob_ was cut into
by the stem of the _Pole Star_ on her port bow, and sank almost
across the channel. The _Pole Star_ swung alongside her after the
collision, and very soon afterwards sank in an almost parallel
position. Tugs and steamboats carrying a number of naval officers
and the port authorities are about to proceed to the scene of the
accident, and if, as seems probable, there is no chance of raising
the vessels, steps will be at once taken to blow them up. In the
present state of our foreign relations such an obstruction directly
across the entrance to one of our principal warports is a national
danger, and will not be allowed to remain a moment longer than can
be helped.”

“_Sept. 2._

“An extraordinary _dénoûement_ has followed the collision in the
Medway reported in my telegram of last night, which renders it
impossible to draw any other conclusion than that the affair is
anything but an accident. Everything now goes to prove that the
whole business was premeditated and was the result of an organised
plot with the object of ‘bottling up’ the numerous men-of-war that
are now being hurriedly equipped for service in Chatham Dockyard.
In the words of Scripture, ‘An enemy hath done this,’ and there can
be very little doubt as to the quarter from which the outrage was
engineered. It is nothing less than an outrage to perpetrate what
is in reality an overt act of hostility in a time of profound
peace, however much the political horizon may be darkened by
lowering warclouds. We are living under a Government whose leader
lost no time in announcing that no fear of being sneered at as a
‘Little Englander’ would deter him from seeking peace and ensuring
it by a reduction of our naval and military armaments, even at
that time known to be inadequate to the demands likely to be made
upon them if our Empire is to be maintained. We trust, however,
that even this parochially minded statesman will lose no time in
probing the conspiracy to its depths, and in seeking instant
satisfaction from those personages, however highly placed and
powerful, who have committed this outrage on the laws of
civilisation.

“As soon as the news of the collision reached the dockyard the
senior officer at Kethole Reach was ordered by wire to take steps
to prevent any vessel from going up the river, and he at once
despatched several picket-boats to the entrance to warn in-coming
ships of the blocking of the channel, while a couple of other boats
were sent up to within a short distance of the obstruction to make
assurance doubly sure. The harbour signals ordering ‘suspension of
all movings,’ were also hoisted at Garrison Point.

“Among other ships which were stopped in consequence of these
measures was the _Van Gysen_, a big steamer hailing from Rotterdam,
laden, it was stated, with steel rails for the London, Chatham, and
Dover Railway, which were to be landed at Port Victoria. She was
accordingly allowed to proceed, and anchored, or appeared to
anchor, just off the railway pier at that place. Ten minutes later
the officer of the watch on board H.M.S. _Medici_ reported that he
thought she was getting under way again. It was then pretty dark.
An electric searchlight being switched on, the _Van Gysen_ was
discovered steaming up the river at a considerable speed. The
_Medici_ flashed the news to the flagship, which at once fired a
gun, hoisted the recall, and the _Van Gysen’s_ number in the
international code, and despatched her steam pinnace, with orders
to overhaul the Dutchman and stop him at whatever cost. A number of
the marines on guard were sent in her with their rifles.

“The _Van Gysen_ seemed well acquainted with the channel, and
continually increased her speed as she went up the river, so that
she was within half a mile of the scene of the accident before the
steamboat came up with her. The officer in charge called to the
skipper through his megaphone to stop his engines and to throw him
a rope, as he wanted to come on board. After pretending for some
time not to understand him, the skipper slowed his engines and
said, ‘Ver vel, come ‘longside gangway.’ As the pinnace hooked on
at the gangway, a heavy iron cylinder cover was dropped into her
from the height of the _Van Gysen’s_ deck. It knocked the bowman
overboard and crashed into the fore part of the boat, knocking a
big hole in the port side forward. She swung off at an angle and
stopped to pick up the man overboard. Her crew succeeded in
rescuing him, but she was making water fast, and there was nothing
for it but to run her into the bank. The lieutenant in charge
ordered a rifle to be fired at the _Van Gysen_ to bring her to, but
she paid not the smallest attention, as might have been expected,
and went on her way with gathering speed.

“The report, however, served to attract the attention of the two
picket-boats which were patrolling up the river. As she turned a
bend in the stream they both shot up alongside out of the darkness,
and ordered her peremptorily to stop. But the only answer they
received was the sudden extinction of all lights in the steamer.
They kept alongside, or rather one of them did, but they were quite
helpless to stay the progress of the big wall-sided steamer. The
faster of the picket-boats shot ahead with the object of warning
those who were busy examining the wrecks. But the _Van Gysen_,
going all she knew, was close behind, an indistinguishable black
blur in the darkness, and hardly had the officer in the picket-boat
delivered his warning before she was heard close at hand. Within a
couple of hundred yards of the two wrecks she slowed down, for fear
of running right over them. On she came, inevitable as Fate. There
was a crash as she came into collision with the central
deck-houses of the _Frauenlob_ and as her bows scraped past the
funnel of the _Pole Star_. Then followed no fewer than half a dozen
muffled reports. Her engines went astern for a moment, and down she
settled athwart the other two steamers, heeling over to port as she
did so. All was turmoil and confusion. None of the dockyard and
naval craft present were equipped with searchlights. The
harbourmaster, the captain of the yard, even the admiral
superintendent, who had just come down in his steam launch, all
bawled out orders.

“Lights were flashed and lanterns swung up and down in the vain
endeavour to see more of what had happened. Two simultaneous shouts
of ‘Man overboard!’ came from tugs and boats at opposite sides of
the river. When a certain amount of order was restored it was
discovered that a big dockyard tug was settling down by the head.
It seems she had been grazed by the _Van Gysen_ as she came over
the obstruction, and forced against some portion of one of the
foundered vessels, which had pierced a hole in her below the
water-line.

“In the general excitement the damage had not been discovered, and
now she was sinking fast. Hawsers were made fast to her with the
utmost expedition possible in order to tow her clear of the
piled-up wreckage, but it was too late. There was only just time to
rescue her crew before she, too, added herself to the under-water
barricade. As for the crew of the _Van Gysen_, it is thought that
all must have gone down in her, as no trace of them has as yet been
discovered, despite a most diligent search, for it was considered
that, in an affair which had been so carefully planned as this
certainly must have been, some provision must surely have been made
for the escape of the crew. Those who have been down at the scene
of the disaster report that it will be impossible to clear the
channel in less than a week or ten days, using every resource of
the dockyard.

“A little later I thought I would go down to the dockyard on the
off-chance of picking up any further information. The Metropolitan
policemen at the gate would on no account allow me to pass at that
hour, and I was just turning away when by a great piece of good
fortune I ran up against Commander Shelley.

“I was on board his ship as correspondent during the manœuvres
of the year before last. ‘And what are you doing down here?’ was
his very natural inquiry after we had shaken hands. I told him that
I had been down in Chatham for a week past as special
correspondent, reporting on the half-hearted preparations being
made for the possible mobilisation, and took the opportunity of
asking him if he could give me any further information about the
collision between the three steamers in the Medway. ‘Well,’ said
he, ‘the best thing you can do is to come right along with me. I
have just been hawked out of bed to superintend the diving
operations which will begin the moment there is a gleam of
daylight.’ Needless to say, this just suited me, and I hastened to
thank him and to accept his kind offer. ‘All right,’ he said, ‘but
I shall have to make one small condition.’

“‘And that is?’ I queried.

“‘Merely to let me “censor” your telegrams before you send them,’
he returned. ‘You see, the Admiralty might not like to have too
much said about this business, and I don’t want to find myself in
the dirt-tub.’

“The stipulation was a most reasonable one, and however I disliked
the notion of having probably my best paragraphs eliminated, I
could not but assent to my friend’s proposition. So away we marched
down the echoing spaces of the almost deserted dockyard till we
arrived at the _Thunderbolt_ pontoon. Here lay a pinnace with steam
up, and, lighted down the sloping side of the old ironclad by the
lantern of the policeman on duty, we stepped on board and shot out
into the centre of the stream. We blew our whistles and the
coxswain waved a lantern, whereupon a small tug that had a couple
of dockyard lighters attached gave a hoarse ‘toot’ in response, and
followed us down the river. We sped along in the darkness against a
strong tide that was making up-stream, past Upnor Castle, that
quaint old Tudor fortress with its long line of modern powder
magazines, and along under the deeper shadows beneath Hoo Woods
till we came abreast of the medley of mud flats and grass-grown
islets just beyond them. Here, above the thud of the engines and
the plash of the water, a thin, long-drawn-out cry wavered through
the night. ‘Someone hailing the boat, sir,’ reported the lookout
forward. We had all heard it. ‘Ease down,’ ordered Shelley, and
hardly moving against the rushing tideway we listened for its
repetition. Again the voice was raised in quavering supplication.
‘What the dickens does he say?’ queried the commander. ‘It’s
German,’ I answered. ‘I know that language well. I think he’s
asking for help. May I answer him?’

“‘By all means. Perhaps he belongs to one of those steamers.’ The
same thought was in my own mind. I hailed in return, asking where
he was and what he wanted. The answer came back that he was a
shipwrecked seaman, who was cold, wet, and miserable, and implored
to be taken off from the islet where he found himself, cut off from
everywhere by water and darkness. We ran the boat’s nose into the
bank, and presently succeeded in hauling on board a miserable
object, wet through, and plastered from head to foot with black
Medway mud. The broken remains of a cork life-belt hung from his
shoulders. A dram of whisky somewhat revived him. ‘And now,’ said
Shelley, ‘you’d better cross-examine him. We may get something out
of the fellow.’ The foreigner, crouched down shivering in the
stern-sheets half covered with a yellow oilskin that some
charitable bluejacket had thrown over him, appeared to me in the
light of the lantern that stood on the deck before him to be not
only suffering from cold, but from terror. A few moments’
conversation with him confirmed my suspicions. I turned to Shelley
and exclaimed, ‘He says he’ll tell us everything if we spare his
life,’ I explained. ‘I’m sure I don’t want to shoot the chap,’
replied the commander. ‘I suppose he’s implicated in this “bottling
up” affair. If he is, he jolly well deserves it, but I don’t
suppose anything will be done to him. Anyway, his information may
be valuable, and so you may tell him that he is all right as far as
I’m concerned, and I will do my best for him with the Admiral. I
daresay that will satisfy him. If not, you might threaten him a
bit. Tell him anything you like if you think it will make him
speak.’ To cut a long story short, I found the damp Dutchman
amenable to reason, and the following is the substance of what I
elicited from him.

“He had been a deck hand on board the _Van Gysen_. When she left
Rotterdam he did not know that the trip was anything out of the
way. There was a new skipper whom he had not seen before, and there
were also two new mates with a new chief engineer. Another steamer
followed them all the way till they arrived at the Nore. On the way
over he and several other seamen were sent for by the captain and
asked if they would volunteer for a dangerous job, promising them
£50 a-piece if it came off all right. He and five others agreed, as
did two or three stokers, and were then ordered to remain aft and
not communicate with any others of the crew. Off the Nore all the
remainder were transferred to the following steamer, which steamed
off to the eastward. After they were gone the selected men were
told that the officers all belonged to the Imperial German Navy,
and by orders of the Kaiser were about to attempt to block up the
Medway.

“A collision between two other ships had been arranged for, one of
which was loaded with a mass of old steel rails into which liquid
cement had been run, so that her hold contained a solid
impenetrable block. The _Van Gysen_ carried a similar cargo, and
was provided with an arrangement for blowing holes in her bottom.
The crew were provided with life-belts and the half of the money
promised, and all except the captain, the engineer, and the two
mates dropped overboard just before arriving at the sunken vessels.
They were advised to make their way to Gravesend, and then to shift
for themselves as best they could. He had found himself on a small
island, and could not muster up courage to plunge into the cold
water again in the darkness.

“‘By Jove! This means war with Germany, man!--War!’ was Shelley’s
comment. At two o’clock this afternoon we knew that it did, for the
news of the enemy’s landing in Norfolk was signalled down from the
dockyard. We also knew from the divers that the cargo of the sunken
steamers was what the rescued seaman had stated it to be. Our
bottle has been fairly well corked.”

This amazing revelation showed how cleverly contrived was the German plan of hostilities. All our splendid ships at Chatham had, in that brief half-hour, been bottled up and rendered utterly useless. Yet the authorities were not blameless in the matter, for in November 1905 a foreign warship actually came up the Medway in broad daylight, and was not noticed until she began to bang away her salutes, much to the utter consternation of everyone!

This incident, however, was but one of the many illustrations of Germany’s craft and cunning. The whole scheme had been years in careful preparation.

She intended to invade us, and regarded every stratagem as allowable in her sudden dash upon England, an expedition which promised to result in the most desperate war of modern times.

At that moment the _Globe_ reproduced those plain, prophetic words of Lord Overstone, written some years before to the Royal Defence Commission: “Negligence alone can bring about the calamity under discussion. Unless we suffer ourselves to be surprised we cannot be invaded with success. It is useless to discuss what will occur or what can be done after London has fallen into the hands of an invading foe. The apathy which may render the occurrence of such a catastrophe possible will not afterwards enable the country, enfeebled, dispirited, and disorganised by the loss of its capital, to redeem the fatal error.”

Was that prophecy to be fulfilled?

Some highly interesting information was given by Lieutenant Charles Hammerton, 1st Volunteer Battalion Suffolk Regiment, of Ipswich, who with his company of Volunteer cyclists reconnoitred the enemy’s position in East Suffolk during Monday night. Interviewed by the Ipswich correspondent of the Central News, he said:

“We left Ipswich at eight o’clock in order to reconnoitre all the roads and by-roads in the direction of Lowestoft. For the first twelve miles, as far as Wickham Market, we knew that the country was clear of the enemy, but on cautiously entering Saxmundham--it now being quite dark--we pulled up before Gobbett’s shop in the High Street, and there learnt from a group of terrified men and women that a German reconnoitring patrol consisting of a group of about ten Uhlans under a sergeant, and supported by other groups all across the country to Framlingham and Tannington, had been in the town all day, holding the main road to Lowestoft, and watching in the direction of Ipswich. For hours they had patrolled the south end opposite Waller’s, upon whose wall they posted a copy of Von Kronhelm’s proclamation.

“They threatened to shoot any person attempting to move southward out of the town. Three other Germans were on the old church tower all day making signals northward at intervals. Then, as night closed in, the Uhlans refreshed themselves at the Bell, and with their black and white pennants fluttering

+------------------------------------------------------------+
| |
| |
| |
| PROCLAMATION. |
| |
| CITIZENS OF LONDON. |
| |
| |
| THE NEWS OF THE BOMBARDMENT of the |
| City of Newcastle and the landing of the German Army |
| at Hull, Weybourne, Yarmouth, and other places along |
| the East Coast is unfortunately confirmed. |
| |
| THE ENEMY’S INTENTION is to march upon |
| the City of London, which must be resolutely defended. |
| |
| THE BRITISH NATION and the Citizens of |
| London, in face of these great events, must be energetic |
| in order to vanquish the invader. |
| |
| The ADVANCE must be CHALLENGED FOOT |
| BY FOOT. The people must fight for King and |
| Country. |
| |
| Great Britain is not yet dead, for indeed, the more |
| serious her danger, the stronger will be her unanimous |
| patriotism. |
| |
| GOD SAVE THE KING. |
| |
| HARRISON, _Lord Mayor_. |
| |
| Mansion House, |
| London, _September 3rd, 1910_. |
| |
+------------------------------------------------------------+

THE LORD MAYOR’S APPEAL TO LONDON.

from their lances, clattered backward in the direction of Yoxford.

“I had sent scouts off the main road from Woodbridge, through Framlingham, Tannington, and Wilby, with orders to push on if possible to Hoxne, to join the main road to Harleston, which I judged must be on the enemy’s flank. Each man knew those difficult crossroads well, which was necessary, we having to travel noiselessly without lights.

“In the bar-parlour of the Bell at Saxmundham we held consultation with a sergeant of police and a couple of constables, from whom we gathered some further information, and then decided to push cautiously north and ascertain into what positions the Uhlans had retired for the night, and, if possible, the whereabouts of the enemy’s march outposts. I had with me twelve men. Nine of us were in uniform, including myself, but the other four preferred to go in mufti, though warned of the risk that they might be treated as spies.

“Carefully, and in silence, we got past the crossroad, to Kelsale, on past the Red House, and down into Yoxford village, without meeting a soul. We were told in Yoxford by the excited villagers that there were foreign soldiers and motor-cyclists constantly passing and repassing all day, but that soon after seven o’clock they had all suddenly retired by the road leading back to Haw Wood. Whether they had gone to the right to Blythburgh, or to the left to Halesworth, was, however, unknown. Our expedition was a most risky one. We knew that we carried our lives in our hands, and yet the War Office and the whole country were anxiously waiting for the information which we hoped to gain. Should we push on? I put it to my companions--brave fellows every one of them, even though the Volunteers have so often been sneered at--and the decision was unanimous that we should reconnoitre at all costs.

“Therefore, again in silence, we went forward, determining to take the Lowestoft high road. Where the enemy’s outposts were, we had no idea. Quietly we skirted Thorington Park, and were just ascending the bridge over the Blyth, before entering Blythburgh, when of a sudden we saw silhouetted on the slope against the star-lit sky a small group of heavily-accoutred German infantry, who had their arms piled beside the road, while two were acting as sentries close at hand.

“At once we were challenged in German. In an instant we flung ourselves from our machines, and took shelter in a hedge opposite. Several times was the gruff challenge repeated, and as I saw no possibility of crossing the bridge, we stealthily turned our cycles round and prepared to mount. Of a sudden we were evidently perceived, and next second shots whistled about us, and poor Maitland, a private, fell forward upon his face in the road--dead. We heard loud shouting in German, which we could not understand, and in a moment the place seemed alive with the foreigners, while we only just had time to mount and tear away in the direction we had come. At Haw Wood I decided to pass the river by a by-road I knew at Wissett, avoiding Halesworth on the right. As far as Chediston Green all was quiet, but on turning northward to Wissett at the cross-roads outside the inn we perceived three men lurking in the shadow beneath the wall.

“With one of my men I abandoned my machine, and crept softly in their direction, not knowing whether they were farm labourers or the enemy’s outposts. Slowly, and with great caution, we moved forward until, on listening intently, I heard them in conversation. They were speaking in German! On my return to my section, Plunkett, one of the privates in mufti, volunteered to creep past without his machine, get to Aldous Corner, and so reconnoitre the country towards the enemy’s headquarters, which, from Von Kronhelm’s proclamation, we knew to be at Beccles.

“Under our breath we wished him God-speed, and a moment later he disappeared in the darkness. What afterwards happened we can only surmise. All we know is that he probably stumbled over a length of barbed wire stretched across the road, for of a sudden the three lurking Germans ran across in his direction. There was a sound of muffled oaths and curses, a quick shuffling of struggling feet, and the triumphant shout in German as a prisoner was secured.

“The truth held us breathless. Poor Plunkett was captured as a spy!

“We could do nothing to save him, for to reveal ourselves meant capture or death. Therefore we were compelled to again retire. We then slipped along the by-roads until we reached Rumburgh, narrowly avoiding detection by sentries stationed at the fork leading to Redisham. Rumburgh was the native place of one of my men named Wheeler, and fortunately he knew every hedge, wall, ditch, and field in the vicinity. Acting as our guide, he left the main road, and by a series of footpaths took us to the main Bungay Road at St. Lawrence. Continuing again by circuitous footpaths, he took us to the edge of Redisham Park, where we discovered a considerable number of German infantry encamped, evidently forming supports to the advance line of outposts. It then became difficult how to act, but this dilemma was quickly solved by Wheeler suggesting that he being in mufti should take the other two plain-clothes men and push on to Beccles, we having now safely passed the outposts and being actually within the enemy’s lines. No doubt we had penetrated the advance line of outposts when we struck off from Rumburgh, therefore there only remained for us to turn back and make good our escape, which we did by crossroads in the direction of Bungay. Wheeler and his two brave companions had hidden their cycles and rifles in the ditch outside the park, and had gone forward with whispered good-byes.

“Presently we found ourselves at Methingham Castle, where we again saw groups of Germans waiting for the dawn, while squadrons of cavalry and motor-cyclists were apparently preparing to move out along Stone Street to scour all the country to the south-west. These we at once gave a wide berth, and succeeded at last in getting down to the Waveney and crossing it, little the worse, save for a wetting. Near Harleston, four miles to the south-west, we came across two of our men whom we had left at Woodbridge, and from them learnt that we were at last free of the enemy. Therefore, by three o’clock we were back again in Ipswich, and immediately made report to the adjutant of our regiment, who was anxiously awaiting our return to headquarters. The scene during the night in Ipswich was one of terror and disorder, the worst fears being increased by our report.

“Would Wheeler return? That was the crucial question. If he got to Beccles he might learn the German movements and the disposition of their troops. Yet it was a terribly risky proceeding, death being the only penalty for spies.

“Hour after hour we remained in eager suspense for news of the three gallant fellows who had risked their lives for their country, until shortly after eight I heard shouts outside in the street, and, covered with mud and perspiration, and bleeding from a nasty cut on his forehead, the result of a spill, Wheeler burst triumphantly in.

“Of the others he had seen nothing since leaving them in the market-place at Beccles, but when afterwards he secured his own cycle, the two other cycles were still hidden in the ditch. Travelling by paths across the fields, however, he joined the road south of Wissett, and there in the grey morning was horrified to see the body of poor Plunkett suspended from a telegraph pole. The unfortunate fellow had, no doubt, been tried at a drum-head court-martial and sentenced to be hanged as a warning to others!

“During the two and a half hours Wheeler was in Beccles, he made good use of eyes and ears, and his report--based upon information given him by a carter whom the enemy had compelled to haul supplies from Lowestoft--was full of deepest interest and most valuable.

“From my own observations, combined with Wheeler’s information, I was enabled to draw up a pretty comprehensive report, and point out on the map the exact position of the German Army Corps which had landed at Lowestoft.

“Repeated briefly, it is as follows:--

“Shortly before three o’clock on Sunday morning the coastguard at Lowestoft, Corton, and Beach End discovered that their telephonic communication was interrupted, and half an hour later, to the surprise of everyone, a miscellaneous collection of mysterious craft were seen approaching the harbour; and within an hour many of them were high and dry on the beach, while others were lashed alongside the old dock, the new fish-docks of the Great Eastern Railway, and the wharves, disembarking a huge force of German infantry, cavalry, motor-infantry, and artillery. The town, awakened from its slumbers, was utterly paralysed, the more so when it was discovered that the railway to London was already interrupted, and the telegraph lines all cut. On landing, the enemy commandeered all provisions, including the stock at Kent’s, Sennett’s, and Lipton’s, in the London Road, all motor-cars they could discover, horses and forage, while the banks were seized, and the infantry falling in, marched up Old Nelson Street into High Street and out upon the Beccles Road. The first care of the invaders was to prevent the people of Lowestoft damaging the Swing Bridge, a strong guard being instantly mounted upon it, and so quietly and orderly was the landing effected that it was plain the German plans of invasion were absolutely perfect in every detail.

“Few hitches seemed to occur. The mayor was summoned at six o’clock by General von Kronhelm, the generalissimo of the German Army, and briefly informed that the town of Lowestoft was occupied, and that all armed resistance would be punished by death. Then, ten minutes later, when the German war-flag was flying from several flagstaffs in various parts of the town, the people realised their utter helplessness.

“The Germans, of course, knew that irrespective of the weather, a landing could be effected at Lowestoft, where the fish docks and wharves, with their many cranes, were capable of dealing with a large amount of stores. The Denes, that flat, sandy plain between the upper town and the sea, they turned into a camping-ground, and large numbers were billeted in various quarters of the town itself, in the better-class houses along Marine Parade, in the Royal, the Empire, and Harbour hotels, and especially in those long rows of private houses in London Road South.

“The people were terror-stricken. To appeal to London for help was impossible, as the place had been cut entirely off, and around it a strong chain of outposts had already been thrown, preventing anyone from escaping. The town had, in a moment, as it seemed, fallen at the mercy of the foreigners. Even the important-looking police constables of Lowestoft, with their little canes, were crestfallen, sullen, and inactive.

“While the landing was continuing during all Sunday the advance guard moved rapidly over Mutford Bridge, along the Beccles Road, occupying a strong position on the west side of the high ground east of Lowestoft. Beccles, where Von Kronhelm established his headquarters, resting as it does on the River Waveney, is strongly held. The enemy’s main position appears to run from Windle Hill, one mile north-east of Gillingham, thence north-west through Bull’s Green, Herringfleet Hill, over to Grove Farm and Hill House to Ravingham, whence it turns easterly to Haddiscoe, which is at present its northern limit. The total front from Beccles Bridge north is about five miles, and commands the whole of the flat plain west towards Norwich. It has its south flank resting on the River Waveney, and to the north on Thorpe Marshes. The chief artillery position is at Toft Monks--the highest point. Upon the high tower of Beccles Church is established a signal station, communication being made constantly with Lowestoft by helio by day, and acetylene lamps by night.

“The enemy’s position has been most carefully chosen, for it is naturally strong, and, being well held to protect Lowestoft from any attack from the west, the landing can continue uninterruptedly, for Lowestoft beach and docks are now entirely out of the line of any British fire.

“March outposts are at Blythburgh, Wenhaston, Holton, Halesworth, Wissett, Rumburgh, Homersfield, and Bungay, and then north to Haddiscoe, while cavalry patrols watch by day, the line roughly being from Leiston through Saxmundham, Framlingham, and Tannington, to Hoxne.

“The estimate, gleaned from various sources in Lowestoft and Beccles, is that up to Monday at midday nearly a whole Army Corps, with stores, guns, ammunition, etc., had already landed, while there are also reports of a further landing at Yarmouth, and at a spot still farther north, but at present there are no details.

“The enemy,” he concluded, “are at present in a position of absolute security.”